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Inspirational

Inspirational

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I can relate to my daughter’s occasional all-or-nothing attitude.
I watched him as he danced, admiring his strong sense of self and sweet inhibition, appreciating his spirit.
The night I was driven to confront myself, I was standing in front of a room filled to capacity.
I was the first Jew that she ever met. She was the first German that I ever met.
“I have been searching for laughter and joy and happiness all day,” said the queen.
People constantly ask me about what happened, and how I reacted when I saw it.
There is a lot of pressure, from within and from without, to be the perfect mother, or an excellent mother, when being even just a good mom seems elusive and confounding.
How Israelis love kids, anyone’s kids. The country is a free-for-all for the youngest set, something I truly appreciated only once I started bringing my own children there.
Five to ten minutes of stopping what I am doing and refocusing. Five to ten minutes a day of sitting or walking and listening, really listening. Five to ten minutes a day of connecting. How sweet, how nice! Is the stutter a problem, or is it a gift?
How do I manage as the mother of a big family? You might think I ignore the little things, keep my composure, remain calm, overlook the small infractions, and always “let it go.” How else can a large family function?
I bought two baskets of the hard kiwis, thinking that within a few days they would be ripe and ready to eat. I was wrong.
I observe a mom next to me, looking over at her son caressing a dog. He is two; the dog is not his own.
How do I express gratitude? How do I feel the appropriate amount? How do I make sense of the fact that two years later I don’t hold her close often enough, or feel sufficient thanks in her presence?
Okay, so maybe I was looking a little harried that day . . .
As long as I'm rocking the cradle, Baby is serene. The moment I stop, though, he starts fussing and whimpering, and eventually hollering. And so, I continue to rock.
Reflections During My Second Pregnancy
My sweet piece of heaven was born with a cleft lip palate and three short fingers on her left hand. She had a literal hole in her face.
Those demanding, precious, wonderful, sometimes incessant and annoying, beautiful young teens—they’re gone.
Who in the world isn’t suffering?